Do the hard thing.
They weren’t ready to decide yet. But maybe they didn’t have to run from the idea either.
Not today, anyway.
A purple gel-filledballoon squirmed beneath Jules’s fingers as they tried to help six-year-old Amelia attach googly eyes to her sea slug.
“Hold still.” Jules chuckled, gently guiding the creature’s floppy antennae into something vaguely symmetrical. “I think that’s about enough eyes. If we add any more, we’re legally required to register it as an alien.”
Amelia giggled, smearing a streak of pink paint across her own nose. “He’s not an alien, Jules. He’s a slug prince.”
“Ah. My bad. Royalty then.” Jules dipped a fingertip into the glue cup and dabbed it beneath two oversized googly eyes. “Your Highness.”
Across the room, chaos reigned in its usual adorable, mildly concerning form. Kids darted between stations, glitter bombspopping off like confetti landmines, while Paige shouted over the din from the snack table. They’d be finding glitter for the next decade, but it was worth it seeing the kids have a great time.
“Jules, you’re a saint,” she called, waving a juice box like a white flag. “Or mildly unhinged. I haven’t decided.”
“Both,” Jules responded without looking up. “Definitely both.”
For the first time in days, their chest didn’t feel tight. Their brain wasn’t looping worst-case scenarios like a doomsday podcast. It was just this. Paint-streaked fingers. A slug prince. A moment of peace.
Then the door opened.
Jules didn’t look up right away. They were too busy trying to keep a little girl from gluing sequins to the sleeve of her sweater.
They glanced up once the girl was refocused on decorating the back of a sea turtle so it shimmered when the sun hit it.
Keaton.
Because, of course, it would have been too much to ask for Jules to be able to keep avoiding him.
He stood in the doorway holding a cardboard box as if it weighed nothing, even though Jules would bet their favorite scarf it was full of newspapers, flour, and the other art-day necessities Paige had been worried they’d run out of because of the turnout. His ballcap was pushed back slightly, letting a few strands of dark hair slip out along his temple. He was dressed more casually than Jules had ever seen him, wearing a pair of dark-wash jeans that hugged his thighs in a way that had Jules fighting very inappropriate thoughts and a flannel shirt with the sleeves rolled past his elbows. His forearms had no business looking that nice.
Jules’s stomach did a weird little tilt, like it couldn’t decide if it wanted to dive or do a backflip.
“Didn’t expect to see you here,” they said, louder than they meant to, which earned them a few curious glances from the nearby kids.
Keaton shifted the box in his arms. “Paige said you needed more supplies. I was already at the hardware store, so I swung by the grocery store to restock.” He glanced around the room, frowning slightly at the glitter storm. “Figured I’d drop a few things off. The paints are from her place, so they’ll be safe for the kids.”
Paige appeared beside him like she’d been summoned by the mention of her name. “I didn’t think you’d actually come,” she said, grabbing the box from his arms. “But you’ve officially earned a gold star.”
Keaton gave a modest shrug. “Didn’t have much else going on.”
Jules tried not to read into that. Didn’t have much going on, or had picked this over anything else? Keaton seemed like the type of guy who was allergic to downtime. And from what they’d gathered when he and Luke came in for dinner, the guys had more business than they could handle.
Keaton’s entire demeanor changed when he gave his sister a quick hug and a peck on the cheek. It was a glimpse at what lay underneath the stoic exterior, and that was a very dangerous thing for Jules to witness. If they realized Keaton was both sexyandhad a squishy center, there was no way they’d be able to keep their not-a-crush at bay.
Before they could spiral further, a small hand tugged at their sleeve.
“Jules, he’s eating the glue,” Amelia whispered, pointing toward a boy in the corner with a suspiciously shiny mouth.
“On it,” Jules muttered, shooting Keaton a quick smile before jogging across the room to intervene.
They didn’t look back, but they could feel him watching.
Keaton didn’t leave right away. He helped Paige unpack the box, then stayed to assist a group of kids attempting to construct a sea monster out of egg cartons and tissue paper. The group had wanted to build a dragon, but Paige had suggested that might be a theme for another event. Jules tried not to stare, but it was impossible.
Keaton was good with the kids. Like, really good. Patient in a way that made Jules ache. Eli—Noah’s kid—was sitting on his knees, tongue poking out the side of his mouth as he tried to tape cardboard wings onto his monster’s back. Keaton crouched beside him, not taking over, just offering support when the tape got stuck or the wing flopped sideways.
